


Alters

by Zev423



Series: Alters [1]
Category: Hiddlestoner, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-19 14:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zev423/pseuds/Zev423
Summary: Olivia starts dating a waiter named Tom Fletcher (Tom Hiddleston inspired character) and wonders if he is too good to be true.





	1. Chapter One

“Come on,” Tammy begged. “Craig’s looking after the kids, and I haven’t been out in so long.”

Last time I agreed to attend an after-work party I almost went home with Matt from accounting. If it weren’t for Tammy needing me to help her to the bathroom to hold back her hair while she puked, it very well could have happened. She avoided the break room ever since.

“Okay, but let’s not do a repeat of last time,” I said.

We were going to repeat last time. Of course, we were. When Tammy and I went out, it always ended the same way. We would get a few drinks in us, and the games would begin. I would make advances on the most awkward guy in the room. She would pop off on people we decided we didn’t like at the bar. I would start singing Karaoke, badly at that. We would cap off the night with Tammy puking somewhere and calling her husband Craig to take us home.

It was better than going home to watch Netflix documentaries on serial killers and boxed wine, I supposed. My flatmate, aka Mum, would threaten me with another blind date if I didn’t go out anyhow. The workday went by a bit slower than usual, but closing time came fast enough.

Once the jewelry store was locked up got to my car, and Tammy started in, “You sure you don’t want to stop by home? Change your clothes, retouch your make-up a bit?”

“You’re starting to sound like my mum.”

Tammy cringed a little, “When was the last time you had a real boyfriend?”

“I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy.”

“Sure,” Tammy agreed. “But you’re not happy.”

“I’m twenty-seven, I still live with my mum, I dropped out of Uni and work in a jewelry store,” I said. “Of course I’m not happy, but having a boyfriend won’t fix any of that.”

Tammy was a few years older than me. She came from a generation that thought having a partner solved all your problems. I loved her dearly, but I wasn’t entirely certain she was happy as a mum and wife working part-time in retail either.

“Why not go back then?”

I shrugged, “I will soon. I just need to figure out what I want to do.”

I started up my old yellow Mini-Hatch, and we got on the move. Traffic was awful for the time of day. Tammy kept looking at her phone for reasons. “It says here there is some sort of play going on. One of those famous Marvel actors is in it.”

That would explain the droves of people they waded through to get to their boss’s favorite pub. The Nag’s Head was a traditional sort of pub. It looked nice enough from the outside, corner entrance, and etched glass and whatnot. Inside it looked like any other pub. Their boss liked it because it was owned by distant relatives who always gave them a discount for work parties.

The old man was already a few whiskeys in when we walked in. He waved at us with his fat hands and smiled with his ruddy skin, “Any good sales today?”

“No, Steven, not today,” Tammy said.

He frowned as if he was surprised, but our store was the slowest of our retail chain. Even the most determined salesman couldn’t do much in our store. I saw Tammy was already at the bar ordering what looked like a potent drink and smiled. Business as usual.

Matt, from accounting, had shown up. He was a nice enough man, but he was rigid and made accounting jokes even when drunk. He simply forgot that no one else understood his jokes and proceeded to tell them anyways. I tried my best to fade into the corner booth and hopped Tammy would hurry up.

He saw me, and I recoiled. I prayed to all the gods that they would spare me, and he would have the good sense to move on. His gold-rimmed glasses shone in the dim lighting, and he turned my way in his oversized suit and looked at me blankly. I pretended I didn’t see him and looked at my phone, poking buttons as if I were horribly busy.

“Anything to drink?” A voice that did not belong to Matt asked.

I looked up to see a clean-shaven man around my age with curly blond hair. He was gorgeous with high cheekbones and a warm smile. He was tall, but a bit too skinny. Not something he could probably help though. He wore a green apron and black trousers. Under the apron, he wore a tight-fitting white button-up shirt.

“Hi,” I said. I must have looked shocked because he gave a little chuckle.

“Hi,” he said. “You’re with the Bolson Jeweler’s party, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I glanced at the bar to see Tammy watching me. She had a glass of red wine in her hand that was meant for me, but she wasn’t about to interrupt.

“I’ll have a glass of house red,” I found his name tag on his apron. “Tom.”

“Coming right up.”

As he walked away, Tammy was doing a happy dance with her giant curled fringe threatening to break free of all that hairspray, but I couldn’t help but make a cheesy grin and nod excitedly.  
The rest of the night, Tammy and I kept Tom the waiter busy. We ordered food we had no intention of eating, Peanuts, water, and napkins. This was all despite the fact that many of these items sat in stacks at the bar where the owner stood with her hands on her hips glaring at us.

Any chance he could, Tom would chat with us before the owner yelled at him once again. I had gotten drunk. Far more drunk than I planned on. Tammy was worse off. Her speech was slurred, and as if he knew, her husband was sending messages asking how she was doing.

Tom eyed me as he worked around the room, but the owner was watching like a hawk. Any time he got near our table, the awful woman would clear her throat and he would skip us for the group next to us. Matt, from accounting, was now looking at our table.

“Tammy, if you need to go to the bathroom, now is a good time,” I said.

“Might as well.”

Tammy struggled to get out from the booth table. I helped her up, but she tripped on the table leg and nearly knocked me over if it weren’t for Tom who caught us both. “You two all right?”

I looked at him and smiled, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said.

The two of us helped Tammy to the restroom, “You’re not driving, are you?”

“No, her husband will come and get her.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed, “I meant for you.”

Tammy broke free from us and felt her way into the bathroom like a blind woman. Even in her most inebriated state, she was not going to distract me from the handsome man in front of me.

“I’m not that drunk,” I said, though the room was spinning just a bit.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but the bar owner cut him off. “You haven’t even worked here a month, and you’ve gone on dates with half the girls that come in here,” she ragged. “Yet here we are, on to the next girl. Can’t seem to catch a second date.”

The room was dimmer than I remembered before I started drinking. The hag at the bar had her hands on her hips like she expected us to praise her for her shitty treatment. Her voice carried throughout the whole pub, and everyone was staring at him. Tom looked as though he wanted to run and hide. His pale skin was flushed red, and his face was stuck in one of terror.

“I should call you a cab,” he said before running off.

What right did she have to humiliate him like that in front of everyone? I turned her, and before I could stop it, I said, “What’s it to you, you old hag?”

She wiped the bar with an old rag and said, “I’ve heard some stories about that boy. I’m doing you a favor.”

Tammy was in the bathroom, puking her guts out. At least this time she had her long brown hair pulled back into a bun. I folded my arms and leaned against the stall as I told her what had happened.

Tammy took a break from vomiting to reply, “That bitch.”

“She said he dates girls here all the time.”

“At least you know he’s single.”

“Yeah, but she said she heard stories about him. I can’t imagine what. He seems so sweet. There’s always a catch with guys like him.”

“Maybe he’s saving it for marriage.”

Tom did give off an almost innocent presence, but I doubted he was that sort of innocent. I kept reassuring myself that it was just a mean barkeeper who wanted to embarrass her waiter into keeping a professional distance. “He looked so sad when she called him out like that.”

“You should go talk to him,” Tammy said as she flushed the toilet.

“No, we got to get you home.”

“Oli, I’m a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself. I already messaged Craig. He’ll be here shortly. Now, you go out there and find that boy and pull him aside and ask him out.”

I would have hugged her if she didn’t smell like vomit.

I found him outside around the back near the dumpster. He was just leaning up against the building, staring up at the stars. His eyes were glossy as if they were threatening to cry.

“Hey,” I said.

He glanced at me in surprise and cast his gaze down at his shoes. “Hi. Um, listen, sorry about all that in there—”

“She’s a total bitch,” I said.

He laughed and shook his head. “She’s not entirely wrong. I can’t seem to keep anyone around.”

“Are you a serial killer?” I asked.

“What? No, I can’t even go hunting with my grandad.”

“Are you married?”

“I wish.”

He really was too cute. “Are you super religious?”

Tom put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “No, I’m just Tom. Perhaps that’s the problem.”

His words sunk like a stone in my gut. I could relate to that. If someone had told me ten years ago about where I’d be now, I wouldn’t believe them. I was going to get out of this town, see the world and all that. But here I was, Oli in retail. I wanted to be more; I just didn’t know what that was.

“Well, just, Tom. I’m just Olivia,” I said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said as he stretched out a large hand to shake mine.

Despite his height, he wasn’t the least bit imposing. He slouched his shoulders a little as if he didn’t want to intimidate anyone by his height. His blue eyes were wet and reminded me of an ocean. They’d reflect all sorts of colors back at me. It was growing late, and I had to open the store tomorrow. It was now or never.

“So do you got a place?”

Tom gave me a double-take as if it took him several moments to understand I was trying to take him home. “It’s not too far from here,” he said. “But I think I’ll drive if that’s okay.”

Despite his calm and sweet demeanor, he drove like a total twat. He turned every corner as though he were on a track and sped well over the speed limit. It was a wonder we didn’t get pulled over.

“You going to change gears?” I asked when he left my transmission in second gear for so long my car cried out in pain. He looked at me and then the gear shift before apologizing.

“Sorry, I don’t drive a lot.”

I clung to the seat and the doorframe until we finally arrived in a little suburb just outside the city. It felt strange being the passenger of my own car, but he was right; I was in no condition to be driving. It was a little townhome with beige bricks and very little lawn. His side of the lawn was long and full of weeds in what looked like an otherwise tidy street.

“Not much of a gardener?” I teased.

He laughed his cute little laugh, “Ehehehe.”

I supposed that meant that he was not interested in his lawn. The inside wasn’t much to speak of either. There were some framed prints of countrysides. The house looked as though it hadn’t been updated since the seventies. The shag carpet was an unflattering shade of brown, and he had some rather old lighting fixtures. Everything was clean, so there was that.

“You want something to drink?” Tom asked.

I set my bag down on the flower print sofa and said, “I prefer wine, but I’ll have whatever you're having.”

Tom ducked to peek at me from underneath the golden kitchen cabinets. “Is tea all right?”

“Yeah.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if this was his actually his home and not a place he was squatting at. I sat down at the dinette and watched him put the kettle on. The kettle was new though, and so were the teas and cups he used. “How long have you lived here?” I asked.

“Well, it’s not technically mine, to tell the truth. When my grandmother died, she left it to my parents, who agreed to let me stay here provided I took care of things. I just moved in a few months ago.”  
That explained the elderly touch in décor. I thought it was sweet how he was determined to sober me up. I watched him make tea and noted how excited he was to prepare it. He was humming himself a little tune and bobbing his head around as he dropped tea bags into the steaming cups.

“How do you take it?”

I raised my eyebrows, hoping he would get the naughtier aspect of what he said, but he was too busy pouring just the slightest bit of milk from the carton, into his tea. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked him to take me home. I let out a sigh and replied, “Same.”

He sat across from me, and we drank our tea while discussing the recent bout of warm weather, how he was thinking about getting a dog but didn’t want the dog to be stuck in the flat when he worked. About where I worked, he wanted to know if my friend was okay—she was. Craig sent me a picture of Tammy fast asleep in the passenger side of their van with three sleepy kids in the back.  
Our teas were nearly finished when he stood up to take my cup, “Another?”

My face fell, and he realized this wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing at eleven at night. As cute as Tom was, perhaps I needed to cut my losses. Maybe he just didn’t want to have sex with a sloppy drunk girl; I didn’t know. I would get his number and call him later, I supposed. Maybe he was just shy and needed more time.

I checked my phone and said, “Well, it is getting late. I have to open tomorrow.”

Tom began to put the cups away and wouldn’t look at me. I could tell he was disappointed, and I felt bad. He really was just shy, and perhaps girls went a little too fast for him. He lived alone and had no one to talk to aside from that hag and the pub. I felt guilty for trying to go straight to the bedroom when he just wanted to get to know me first. If my mum saw the way I was behaving, she’d probably wring my neck.

I stood up and wrapped my arms around him while he washed out the cups. Tom paused for a moment before lifting his arm so I could come around the front of him. I nearly had to reach as I ran my hands through his curly blond hair. He kissed me then. Soft, sweet, and gentle, just like him.

Once I took the initiative, Tom seemed comfortable taking it from there. He pulled me in and kissed me urgently as if he were afraid I’d decide he wasn’t worth the trouble after all. I broke from his lips, reluctantly, “If you want to wait, I’m okay with that. I think you’re worth waiting for.”

He smirked, and his eyes wandered over my neck and blouse. He didn’t want to wait. I let out a giggle, and he kissed me again. His tongue slipped in and out of my awaiting mouth as he pressed me against the kitchen sink. His hands wandered over my top and flittered around the top of my pants as if he were unsure of how to proceed in a way that would not be debilitating or awkward.

Taking my hand, Tom lead me to his bedroom, “Just this way.”

He took up the master bedroom. The white popcorn ceilings still hinted at a style before our time, but his blue bed set looked nice and expensive. The bed was made up, and the room was rather tidy. Tom wasted no time in getting undressed. With all the lights on, I was a little shy to get completely naked.

I noticed the lamp by his bedside and nodded at him, “Turn that on.”

Tom was already completely naked when he turned on the table lamp. He was far more built than I expected. He was fit for a waiter. He must have worked out quite a bit. I turned off the bedroom light and undressed in the softer glow of the lamp. Tom was already in the bed, under the covers, happily waiting like a good boy on Christmas. It made me laugh.

He pulled back the comforter as I approached. He was sitting up, so placed my hands on his shoulders before straddling him. Tom’s eyes looked me over appreciatively before cupping my breasts with his hands and kissing my chest. I ruffled his hair and pressed myself against him as his lips latched onto a nipple, making me ache and groan.

I could feel his erection bobbing between my legs as if it were pleading for attention. I freed a hand from his hair to stroke his erection, and he let out a slight moan. He was laying back and pulling me down with him. He released my nipple and wiggled his way down on the bed. Tom rubbed the outside of my thighs, and his thumbs traced my hip bones, making me buck.

I was about to sit on his dick, but he pulled me away from his pelvis until I was sitting on his stomach. I looked at him, but he was more focused on looking at what was between my legs. He stroked my outer lips with his thumb gently as I pressed against it to control the pressure as he slowly moved his thumb in circles.

He took his time. Working my clit as he caressed my breast with his free hand. I was panting, and I could feel the wetness accumulating on his abs. I was grinding into him now, desperate for more. I tried to slip down to his hips, but he pulled me back up and braced me with a hand on the back of my thigh. I had a hard time coming in front of men, but Tom was relentless. Pulling me back into his thumb and massaging my clit harder and more deliberately, I began to whimper.

That’s when he let up with his thumb and braced each thigh with his hands as he scooted downwards, position his face on my mound. I cried out as he moved. My center ached, and I didn’t care if he was new, I wanted to come. Before I could decide whether or not coming on his face was something I wanted to do, his tongue made contact with my mound. An orgasm was starting, and I had no choice but to ride his face as I screamed.

I panted and moaned before collapsing on the bed beside Tom. He was smiling in triumph as he wiped his face. My mind was blank from the orgasm. All I could do was groan as he began to caress my naked, sweaty body. Just when I was starting to recover, that damn thumb of his found its target and was going to work on me once more.

I was beginning to wonder if his goal was death by orgasm, and perhaps that was the reason his boss never saw him on a second date. I slapped his hand away, lazily before pushing him flat on his back to straddle him. Despite his size, he slipped in easily, taking both of us by surprise. For a moment, it felt as though I had been impaled. My legs twitched as I sat there, mounted and in shock.

I looked at Tom, who was gripping the sheets with the same stunned expression as he tried not to come. “Don’t move,” he mouthed.

He looked so desperate it was comical, and before I could stop myself, I burst with laughter. The movement was all it took. Tom gasped, and his head tilted back as he pawed at my hips. I rocked into his orgasm as hard as I could, only somewhat laughing as his silky moans reminded me of the heat of the moment.

When he was finished, Tom groaned an apology, “I had hoped to last a little while longer. It’s been a while.”

“I think you earned a second date,” I joked as I dismounted.

“Hey, you don’t have to head back straight away,” he told me, rolling to his side as he watched me collect my clothes off the ground.

“I really do have to open tomorrow. I can’t show up in the things I’m wearing. Besides, my mum will be worried if I don’t come home.”

“Ah,” he nodded.

“You free tomorrow?” I asked.

“I’m doing mid. I’ll be home around seven.”

I ran to the bathroom to pee and cleaned up a bit before emerging mostly dressed. We exchanged numbers and promised to meet up at his work when he was off. I left him there naked regretfully. I took one last look at him before leaving the bedroom. Tomorrow couldn’t happen soon enough.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oli and Tom become better acquainted.

Tammy got in first. She looked awfully hungover. Her bangs were flat, and she was still wearing the make-up from last night. She drank a coffee with dead, sullen eyes as she stared at the computer. Despite not going to bed until the early morning I woke up okay. My eyes hurt from the lack of sleep, but I was still buzzing from my night with Tom.

Tammy heard the metal gate roll up and she gave a weak grin, “Morning.”

“Morning.”

She said nothing as I set my stuff down. She kept unnervingly quiet while I clocked in and helped her set up the store. Tammy grinned at me as I rolled up the gates. It wasn’t until I sat down beside her to do the morning paperwork that she handed me a small cup of tea and said, “Well?”

I tried not to grin but Tammy was starring at me and I opened my mouth to say something polite, but Tammy made a high-pitched noise. My lack of an answer was enough to tell my best friend just what had happened. “Give me the details, then.”

“You going to meet him again?” She asked.

I nodded as I jotted down the numbers of rings in each case. “When he gets off work.”

“He is so cute!” Tammy said. “You really bagged a good one.”

Mum also seemed to sense something as well. She was leaving me messages, so I called her in my car over lunch. She wanted to know why I was out late. I thought about lying, but she had been threatening to set up dates for me, so I figured it was best to tell her the truth.

“I was on a date,” I told her.

It felt good to gush about him. He was the sort of guy I could brag about. He was sweet, handsome, he had a job, and his own place. He was wicked smart too. It was a wonder he was a waiter at the Nag’s Head pub. With mum keen to get off the phone to spread the word—Oli finally got a boyfriend. 

As the day wore on, I kept thinking about taking off work early. I had to remind myself there was no point because Tom didn’t get off until seven. I tried to use work as a distraction. Tammy watched as I scoured every dusty nook and cranny.

Steve and my other coworker Amanda arrived a few hours before Tammy and I were off. They were blissfully unaware of Tom, though I knew it was only a matter of time before they found out.

“Where did you run off to last night? I didn’t see you leave,” Steve said.

“She met a nice fellow,” Tammy explained.

Amanda looked at me in surprise as if the very idea was impossible. Me, Oli, meeting a bloke. Who could have thought? “That young waiter? He couldn’t stay away,” Steve said.

If Steve noticed, it must have been obvious. Thanks to Tammy, the cat was out of the bag. Thankfully it was time to leave for the day. Only two more hours to waste until I could see him again. I fretted about how to spend those two hours in a way that would make them pass quickly, but by the time I left work, stopped by home for a bite and the traffic, I was a few minutes late when I walked into the Nag’s Head pub. The owner saw me and didn’t bother greeting me, it seemed she knew why I was there. Instead, she shouted for Tom who came running from the back.

“Hey!” He said as he embraced me with a hug.

Up close, I noticed he smelled like cigarette smoke, “I didn’t know you smoked.” 

“I don’t,” he said. He looked perplexed about the comment, but my hands were around his waist and he was too interested in me to discuss it further. Probably was on a break with people who smoked. Behind him, the owner was rolling her eyes while she served an old man a pint.

“I guess we’re going to go on that second date now,” I said loudly.

Tom flushed and pulled me by the hand before I could have it out with his boss. This time I drove to his house so I could remember how to get there. It wasn’t as close as he described the night before, he took a bus usually. “It’s a good set up, no point in getting a car. I just borrow my dad’s if I need to go out of town.”

“What do your parents do?” I asked.

“My dad works in Parks and Recreations for the city, my mum passed on years ago.”

I winced, not even into a second date and I stepped in it. “Sorry,” I said.

“She had a lot of problems. My dad did what he could. We loved her very much,” he was quiet for a moment before he cheerily asked, “So, what about your baggage?”

I laughed a little, “I live with my mum, she’s a nurse, and my dad flew the coop when I was twelve.”

“You don’t see him at all?” Tom asked.

“Naw,” I said. “He tried to keep in touch, but I’d just as soon as walk on glass than speak to him again. The way he treated my mum towards the end was awful. He resented her career because his was shit.”

“You got grandparents?” He asked.

“Yeah, my gran is still around. She might be moving in with us soon. Love her to pieces. 

He smiled and nodded, “My mum’s parents are still in fighting form, I don’t get how people so put together could end up with such chaos for children.”

“Oh, well they didn’t always have their shit together. Now they’re just too old to do any damage,” I told him.

He laughed at this, “Perhaps you’re right.”

We watched some tv and cuddled for a while. Couldn’t say what it is we were watching or what it was about. We talked through most of it. “Tea?” He asked.

I nodded. We untangled and he walked around the corner to put the kettle on. I slinked after him and leaned against the dinette table. He looked at me and gave a silent laugh, “Supervising?”

“Uh huh,” I said. When I crossed my arms, I made sure to uncross my ankles. I chose a sundress for a reason. Tom unconsciously licked his lips and busied himself with making tea. 

“We have a few minutes for the tea to properly steep,” he said approaching me.

I was forced into a sitting position as he pressed against me. He positioned himself up against my mound and I happily complied by wrapping my legs around his hips and unzipping his trousers. I pulled out his cock and pushed my panties aside as I guided him in. 

Tom pushed in slowly and deliberately. His rhythm built up momentum as he had a hand on each ass cheek to pump into me harder. Between his thrusts and the angle, he was hitting places inside me that made me whimper. I laid back across the dinette allowing his hands to search my chest. He unbuttoned my dress all the way down to expose my breasts so he could fondle them.

He pulled my hand down to my clit and said breathlessly, “Do you want to do it, or do you want me too?”

Doing it myself was something I was accustomed to with or without a bloke with me and I wanted him to focus on what he was doing. It was the hottest sex I had had in years. I placed my fingers over my clit and found that I was more than ready. I moved my fingers to his thrusts. His hands placed firmly on my hips to keep me in place as his eyes searched my body.

It felt good to know he was as attracted to me as I was to him. I could feel the tension building as I got closer to climax. I sat up with my free arm and he pulled me in close, angling me so that he filled me entirely. I could smell his cologne on his chest as it raised and fell with every push. The heat of his breath and the quiet cries he made as he slammed into me. 

I worked my fingers faster and harder. His breathing got more erratic, as did his thrusts and I knew he was coming. The idea of him coming was enough to send me over the edge. I gasped and he knew he had me, he was free to pound away with reckless abandon as we both came at the same time.

We fell asleep together on the sofa watching an old Pacino film. I wanted to watch murder and crime, but Tom seemed to cringe at the thought. “I really don’t like watching anything too violent.”

He was such a gentle soul. There wasn’t a mean bone in his body except for the one between his legs. I liked it, but I wondered if it wasn’t to make up for something awful that happened in his past. It didn’t matter now, he had me and we could sort it out together. At least that’s what I thought.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oli meets Tom...again? She thought he was such a nice guy...

“You going to Tom’s tonight?” Tammy asked as we locked up the store.

“No,” I moaned. “I promised mum we’d have a girl’s night. Want to come?”

It had been a few weeks since Tom and I started seeing each other and she did deserve to go out. She had been working twelve-hour shifts at the hospital trying to bank more overtime. That and we had scarcely seen each other since I met Tom.

“How're things going with him?” Tammy asked.

“Good. It’s good, just our schedules conflict a lot.” With me working retail hours and him working pub hours, it was hard for me to stay over at his house for any normal amount of time. We saw each other for at least a few hours every other day, sometimes we’d have a day off together if we were lucky.

“Oh? Problems already?” Tammy prodded. 

I cringed. She knew me all too well. “It’s just that, he is so normal. I’m just not used to it. The sex is amazing, but he’s so…”

“Healthy?”

That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, sure, in comparison to my previous relationships this was healthy. That didn’t mean it felt right. Something about it just felt unreal. “I told him he was too perfect.”

“How did he take that?”

“He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even laugh.”

It was a mean thing to say. It was unprovoked and preyed on his already raging insecurities that something was wrong with him. There was nothing strange or unusual about him other than the fact that he wasn’t a total shit head. I felt guilty for it, but I wasn’t sure I liked him as much as he liked me.

“You seeing a movie?” Tammy asked, sensing the shift in my mood.

“Yeah, something sappy, you know the kind mum likes.”

“That’s fine, I just need to get away from the kids for a few.”

The film was boring. Painfully boring. My mum was shoveling popcorn in her face as a constant stream of tears ran down her face. It was one of those films about a dog and you can’t help but cry when the dog dies at the end. Any time the sappy music cued I couldn’t help but get a bit weepy myself. 

Tammy always came prepared at a time like this. I felt a nudge on my hand and looked over to find her nodding knowingly. I took the cup she offered and sipped. It was orange soda with a lot of vodka.

“You’re brilliant,” I whispered.

Tammy laid back into her seat and took a nap for the remainder of the film. I kicked her leg when the dog died, and everyone was crying—including myself. Tammy joined in with the sobs and I looked at her incredulously. The woman could cry on demand. 

The three of us left the theater. My mom had a good cry and was now satisfied. “Mum, you wearing your uniform?”

“Yeah, I have to go back. Just needed my girl fix,” she said hugging me. “Tom might be off work now.” 

I knew he had the day off tomorrow, so I assumed he was working today. I sent him a text, but he never answered. I waited until left and I dropped mum off at the hospital before trying to call. The phone rang and rang. I figured he took an extra shift at work to make a little more money. The only time he didn’t answer a text or call back was if he was working.

I didn’t want to be the stalker girlfriend, but I figured I’d just pop in the Nag’s and make sure he was okay. The traffic through town was just awful and only spiked my anxiety that something was wrong. He mentioned going to help his dad with some things around the house tomorrow while I was at work, maybe he just left early and was driving.

The pub was quiet on a Wednesday. Just a few regulars and the hag at the bar stood where she always did. Like a queen of her own little dung heap. She saw me come in and yelled, “He’s not here. Had the morning shift.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Over the course of the last few weeks, his boss and I came to an agreement. She was an old, bitter hag who was wrong about him, and that I wasn’t going anywhere. It occurred to me that the source of her ire was protectiveness. Though I didn’t know if she was trying to protect Tom from disappointment or if she was trying to protect me from Tom’s rumored bad behavior. In any case, whatever she heard was wrong about him.

I ran by his house and found the door unlocked. That made me panic. I checked around the house and didn’t see any sign of an invasion. It was uncharacteristically messy though. His bed was unmade for the first time that I had ever seen. There was also garbage on the floor. Crisps and other junk food bags that he didn’t normally eat. On the dinette table was a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey and his phone.

Something was indeed off. He didn’t have a flatmate. Perhaps he had a friend over and got distracted. I left everything where it was and left the door unlocked. If he forgot his phone, he might have forgotten his keys as well. I sat in my car and thought about where he might be. I had never chased a boy around in my life, not even my own dad, but I was worried about him. I went back into the house and had another look around. On the nightstand, there was a can of beer and a pack of matches. I shook the can and noted the smoky smell. He was using it as an ashtray, or rather someone was. The matches had a number on the back of them.

I dialed the number and a man answered, “Yeah?”

“Yeah? Hi, I’m looking for someone named Tom.” I told him.

“Who’s this?” He asked.

“His girlfriend.”

“He’s probably at the pier making a few sales.”

“Right, thanks.” My mind buzzed with questions but I didn't want to give away my confusion. Lots of things were sold around the pier, none of them were legal.

It was only a ten-minute drive to the pier. It didn’t take long to find a tall, lean figure walking among the streetlamps. What the hell was he playing at? He was dealing drugs and didn’t feel the need to mention it over the last few weeks? I was fuming as I marched over the grass and onto the boardwalk right up to him.

“What in bloody hell are you doing out here?” I demanded. How could he not mention this? How could he be doing this? Tom couldn't watch criminal minds without feeling down.

Tom turned around, only, it wasn’t Tom. His blonde hair was slicked back. His eyes were not the ocean eyes I knew, but rather a steely unyielding grey. His facial hair had grown in a little making him look rough. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a white t-shirt and biker boots. 

His gaze stopped me in my tracks. It was as if he didn’t recognize me. He took out a hand-rolled cigarette and lit it. “My territory,” he said. “Fuck off.”

I was dumbstruck by the reply. Tom would have never, ever told me to fuck off. I mean, he cussed a lot, but not directly at me or anyone for that matter. The Tom that stood before me stood straight over me as if his gaze could make me shrink. He made me wish I could.

This is what I got for liking a guy. I didn’t know why I hunted him down. This was clearly a mistake. I tried to back away, but Tom grabbed me by the forearms tightly and pulled me close. “You’re hurting me.”

He pressed into me and whispered in my ear, “If you run or scream, I’ll do far worse than that.”

I was scared. There was no doubt about that, but I was also aroused. It was probably due to the fact that this was the man was normally associated with mind-blowing orgasms. Then again, I couldn’t resist a bad guy, it was part of the reason why I was still single. I promised myself Tom would be a departure, but I guess he wasn’t after all. Maybe I wasn’t taking this as seriously as I should have, but I couldn’t help it. His coarse voice made me shiver.

“There’s a copper on the corner there,” he whispered. “I don’t know if you’re with ‘em or what, but I’ll not have you blow my operation. Play nice, or I’ll find where you live, make you sorry.”

My lips trembled and I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to make me sorry or not. I was utterly speechless as his hands felt me up and down, he was searching for something. “No wire,” he said.

“I’m not a cop," I was too shocked to manage anything else. Why was he acting this way to me? He knew I wasn't a cop. He acted as though we had never met before. It sort of stung even if it was an act. 

His eyes were on the car parked on the street, not on me. I wanted his eyes to be on me with the way he was touching me. He turned me to a new angle—probably for the coppers, and kissed me hard. His kiss was different than before. It was hard and demanding. My knees knocked and he supported my weight as his tongue forced its way into my mouth.

After snogging for a few minutes, he seemed satisfied. Either the car drove off or he decided he was interested after all. I frowned at him. What was he playing at? Was this all because I said he was too perfect? Tom regarded me for a moment before looking up at my car. “Is that yours?”

Before I could come up with anything cheeky to say, he pulled the keys out of my jacket pocket and approached the driver side. He was already in the car with it running when I clambered into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” I asked him.

He was adjusting the mirrors with utmost precision before he pulled out of the parking spot. “We’re going to party.”

My stomach was doing flip flops and I thought about ducking out of the car at a red light, but that kiss had me glued to the seat. Tom’s arm remained on the gear and he drove with the care and accuracy of an expert driver. Even if he wanted to, Tom couldn’t perfect his driving skills in such a short amount of time. Why would he pretend to be a badass but drive so carefully? I should think the person he was pretending to be wouldn’t drive so slowly.

“You drive like my grandad,” I teased.

“Your grandad is less likely to get pulled over with half a kilo’s worth of coke in his pockets.”

My eyes went wide, “You’ve got to be joking!”

Tom took a bag filled with smaller bags of white powder and threw it on my lap. I had to check. It could have been a bag of baby powder for all I knew. I had a boyfriend that sold drugs, but he mostly dealt pot and pills. This stuff felt like baby powder and was a startling shade of white. Even in the dark, it was bright.

“Take a taste if you like,” he said. 

His voice wavered between a purr and a growl and it made my knees knock. I'd have to get him to use it more often. I looked at the powder and thought about what to do with it. Tom was testing me. He wanted to see how far I was willing to go. I dipped a finger in and took a taste. It tasted like chemicals and my tongue went numb. My stomach sank when I realized it was the real deal. How did he get ahold of this much for this charade? Perhaps all those “extra shifts” at work were not actually at the pub.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even. We were driving around the Croydon. It wasn’t the safest place to be. That’s where druggies and the prostitutes ran amuck. At least one of my exes were lurking around in these parts.

“I told you, a party.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to a party, and I wasn’t certain that this was the boy I called boring a few days ago. I tried my best to recall the conversation despite the overwhelming presence of the man beside me. My Tom, the sweet, funny man who couldn’t bear to watch anything too scary on his grandmother’s floral print sofa. He would apologize for talking too much when he was drunk and stubbed his toe on nearly every piece of furniture in the house. His eyes would water if he was startled and he had the most infectious, adorable laugh. 

Maybe he was angry for what I said the last time I saw him. We were eating takeout and I had a few glasses of wine.

“I don’t know, you’re just so normal.” I regretted it the instant it came from my mouth.

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” he said as he grimaced. He wasn’t looking at me again. He did that when he was upset. Otherwise, Tom would be staring into my eyes until I looked away flustered.

I shook my head though inside I couldn’t help but agree. “Not at all. I’m just not used to it is all.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but maybe I wanted a dysfunctional guy. Perhaps I found all the wrong ones that way they were easy to let go of, but here I was with a man who had a bad reputation and nothing to show for it. How do you end things when nothing’s wrong? I didn’t want to end things with him, but it just felt like my escape routes were blocked if I did.

Tom got up from the couch and made some tea. His go-to coping mechanism. I felt terrible. There was no taking it back and no way to make it right. 

“Maybe I should go?” I called from the sofa.

“Sure.” He said back. Not a word otherwise. It was like he was icing me out, which didn’t feel great. It’s not like I told him I didn’t like him, I just said he was normal, what was wrong with that? I stood up and left. 

That was it. That was the last conversation I had with him in person before today. I sent him texts since then, he responded. I thought things had mulled over but this Tom that drove my car like an expert was pensive and distant. With his hair slicked away from his face, he looked like a Bond villain or something. 

We parked the car in a back alley. I feared leaving my car and hoped no one would vandalize it. There was no time to fuss over it when I was too busy chasing after my boyfriend who was confidently striding into a dark neighborhood. His back straight and his hands casually in his pockets. He was nothing like I thought I knew.

Croydon wasn’t all that bad unless you were looking for trouble. There was no doubt that Tom was looking for trouble. We rounded the corner and found ourselves at a decent little flat with lots of people hanging around outside. They looked young, there was a party between the two connecting flats. It looked like a decent party nobody rough or sketchy looking. I looked at Tom and smiled. I wasn’t going to be fooled by his game so easily.

Tom didn’t bother saying hello to anyone at the front door. He just strolled right in like he owned the place. I blushed as everyone stared. I stuttered apologies as I stepped in behind the people he shoved aside in his wake. “Sorry, sorry…”

The home was decently decorated, a bit too contemporary for my liking. I supposed if I had lots of guests over plastic easy to clean chairs and laminate floors would be preferable. The walls were a stark and there was no sofa, just a bunch of odd-shaped furniture and large bean bags. 

People were drinking, snorting coke off the glass tables. I made the mistake of peaking into a bedroom and finding a bunch of people in a room with no furniture just lying about. Some had needles. I was surprised by the number of drugs in this place.

“I thought this would be a normal party…” I muttered to Tom.

“What? You think slags and crack addicts could afford what I’m selling?”

Tom pushed a door open and a smart-looking chap with short dark hair and glasses was with several women on a bed. They looked thin, model-like. Not the ordinary sort you’d find in Croydon. “Tom,” the man greeted. “Your timing is impeccable.”

“The pier was dead, I figured this was why,” Tom said, gesturing with his hands.

The man’s eyes fell on me. “And who is this?”

Tom looked at me as if he forgot I was here, “Just a girl.”

I gritted my teeth but refused to let it show that he was getting to me. We were going to have a long talk about it when we got home but now didn’t seem the best place to pick a fight. I wasn’t sure how far he was going to take this whole thing. I was beginning to think the Tom I knew was an act and this was the real Tom all along.

“I’ll take what you’re selling,” the man said.

“I have half a kilo on me.” He laughed slightly. Even his laugh was different. An edge of a threat lingered suggesting the man should not waste his time. I felt so uncomfortable. Something about the man made me feel uneasy. The way he looked at me and the way the girls were lethargically draped on the bed. It wasn't right.

The man put his arms around the girls who were now cuddling up to him, excited by the purchase. “I have guests.”

The man got up and went to a drawer where he pulled out several bills. He counted them out in front of Tom, laying them in neat stacks on the white bed comforter. The exchange was made, and the man shook his hand. “You’re welcome to join in, of course. I must warn you, in the living room is an open event. All must share,” he said gesturing to me.

What in the bloody hell did that mean? Tom didn’t seem interested, but he didn’t decline either. He simply left the room with me chasing behind. I wanted to get home as soon as possible. This whole evening reminded me why normal wasn’t so bad. Maybe that’s the point he was trying to make, but who would go to such lengths?

I could see the living room from the hallway and I suddenly understood why the furniture was so strange. It wasn’t contemporary furniture; it was sex furniture. There was a couple on a chaise lounge and three people entwined on the giant bean bag. I tried to keep my eyes low as people were partnering up and taking to the floor with wedge blocks and other such devices. 

We nearly made it to the door when a naked blonde stepped in front of Tom. She wrapped her arms around him and began kissing him. I was fuming. Before I could stop myself, I stepped in and pushed her aside, “We’re just leaving.”

Tom silently laughed and the girl refused to step back. “Perhaps I’ll be back,” he promised her. Only then did she relent. The cool air outside calmed me down a bit, but I panicked when I saw a group of men around the front of my car. There were three of them and they didn’t look like anyone in the party. These guys looked rougher, greasier, and hollow-eyed. 

“Fancy you got in the party no trouble,” one man with shaggy hair slurred.

“What? You weren’t invited?” Tom teased. 

“They wouldn’t let us in,” the big one said.

“Too bad,” Tom said. “Get off my car.”

The three of them turned their full attention to us. I looked at him with wide eyes and struggled to not freak out. He had my keys. Tom was just laughing, inviting the men to gang up on him. “What are you thinking?” I whispered.

I turned around to look back at the house, but everyone was inside. There was nothing out here but a bunch of lawn chairs now. The three of them pushed through the gate of the white picket fence and stared Tom down, but he kept straight and relentless. Before the big one could take a hit, Tom punched him, making the big man fall over on the fence.

He ducked as the shaggy-haired man came at him and shoved him into the skinny one who didn’t speak at all. All three of them were getting up when Tom grabbed a lawn chair and swung it sideways so that the metal frame crashed against the big guy’s temple. He let out a masculine roar as he bashed the chair into the shaggy-haired man. The skinny guy stumbled back and fell over the fence. 

All the while, Tom was smiling with glee. He enjoyed making a bloody mess of these guys. There was a zeal in his eyes that frightened me. I’d never seen him make such a crazed expression before. I flinched each time he hit them, but I was too scared to tell him to stop. Only once they were all prone did he toss the now broken lawn chair to the side and look at me.

“Get in the car,” he ordered.

I didn’t hesitate. I ran through the open gate and got into the passenger seat while Tom gave one final kick to one of them before he got into the car. He calmly started and reversed the car and drove off. We said nothing the entire way back. I didn’t know what to say. I had half a mind to jump out of the car at a traffic stop and run for it. 

We rolled up to an apartment complex in East Grinstead. It was a tall nondescript building. “Where are we?”

“My place,” he said parking in a designated stall. 

I couldn’t believe it. There’s no way he could afford two places on a waiter’s salary near London even if his dad owned one. Maybe he still had a lease on one before his dad asked him to move into the flat. I didn’t know. The longer I was with him, the more I felt like he was a different Tom altogether.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

Tom laughed at me and I blushed in the dark. “Should I go back to the party then?” He asked.

“What?”

He let out a gasp in frustration, “You coming up or not?”

I should have told him to get out of the car. I should have gotten into the driver seat and went right on home. Cried over what bad luck I had with men and ate a pint of ice cream. I’d show up to work and tell everyone what a terrible man he turned out to be and never set foot in the Nag’s Head again.

Instead, I gave a slight nod. “There’s a girl,” slithered out of his mouth.

Before he even got the apartment door open, he had his arm around my waist and his hand was slipping down the front of my pants. His iron thumb played no part, rather his fingers went straight for my opening. He nearly knocked me over trying to shift his hand into my pants far enough to reach.

I tried to protest by pulling his hand up, but he wasn’t concerned in the slightest. The door swung open and he pulled me in and shut the door pinning me against it. Tom didn’t bother to so much as turn a light on, he was too busy unbuttoning my trousers and yanking my shirt off.

With the lights off there was no semblance of the man I had grown so accustomed to. My legs locked up despite my panting. Tom paid no mind as he was undressing. He noticed a little bit of my apprehension and paused long enough to say, “We’re doing this, yeah?”

I was stupid with excitement but so confused about what was going on. I nodded and realized he couldn’t see me nod. I had to utter “Yeah,” before he would continue.

He was on me in an instant. Parting my legs, he got between them and picked me up to correct the height disparity. Pushing inside me without mercy, Tom pounded into me relentlessly. My body slammed against the door, but I was moaning too loud to notice. His thrusts were in full force once and I was helplessly pinned to the door. I rolled my head back and felt his hot gasps against my neck.

Someone banged against the wall and shouted complaints. Only then did Tom lower me from the wall. He carried me to a bed and box spring—no frame. He practically tossed me onto it before crawling over my prone body. The moonlight streamed in from the empty windows over my naked body. I could see his eyes devouring what they saw. It was as if he’d never seen me before in his life. His steely gaze was intense. I should have shrunk away in fear, but my hand found its way between my thighs instead. Tom liked watching me. He licked his lips while he hovered over me on all fours. Tom pushed my hand aside and laid on top of me. His weight pressed me into the mattress as he pinned my hands over my head. 

I let out a gasp as he penetrated and resumed thrashing me within an inch of my life. His stamina was different. My Tom couldn’t have kept at this pace without coming. The man she was with now was insatiable. He growled as he bit at my neck as if he was marking me as his territory.

He pulled out quickly and I let out a cry of protest. He let out a throaty noise as he flipped me over and pulled me up on my knees. I cried out as he pushed himself inside me once again and grabbed my hips to move me at the speed he desired. Every sensitive spot was found exploited as he fought his way inside. Tom was gasping and panting now. He grabbed a handful of my hair at the scalp and pulled on it for additional leverage as he rammed into me for a few final times, crying out as he came inside me.

I fell over once he let me go. He was still on his knees breathing hard. My knees shook and I could hear the neighbors pounding on the wall yelling at us to shut up. I didn’t realize I was screaming, but I must have been because they were threatening to call the police.

“How many girls you murder in there, mate?” He shouted from the paper-thin walls. “Some of us got to work in the morning.”

I would have laughed, but I was too dazed by what had just happened. “You’re not my Tom, are you?” I asked in wonder.

His pale skin looked gaunt in the moonlight. He looked at me with his head tilted, his eyes heavy with consideration. It was quite a sad expression really. “I’m nobody’s Tom.”

I shook my head in confusion. He proved his point. The charade should have ended but this didn’t end for him. He didn’t wait for me to work out what I was trying to say. Instead, Tom got off the bed and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or laugh. I stood on shaky legs to collect my things and get dressed. The sex was good, but it left me feeling so empty. My Tom didn’t make me feel like that. I was half-dressed when the bathroom door swung open. His hair was ruffled and rebelling against the hair product he used. I could see curls emerging. In the bathroom light, he looked more himself.

He looked me over and saw I was getting dressed. “There is a pen and some paper over there,” Tom nodded to the table beside the bed. “Leave your name and number.”

“My name?”

He looked from left to right before explaining, “You never gave it to me.”

My mouth fell open. He responded by shutting the bathroom door, leaving me in the dark.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oli discovers who Tom Paige truly is, but what will Tom Fletcher say?

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Tammy asked when she picked up the phone.

I had every intention of giving a calm and indifferent reason why I called in sick, but what came out of my mouth was babbling between sobs with and wheezes. I was an absolute mess. I had gotten myself into it this time.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Okay,” I squeaked.

Tammy arrived at the house with a box of wine and a couple of pints of ice cream. “I didn’t know what to bring,” she said. “Tell me everything.”

I didn’t hold back. I told her about Tom’s radical transformation, how he took me to a coke-fueled sex party where he beat the shit out of three guys before we had amazing albeit selfish sex.

“The worst part of it was that when he asked me to write my name and number down, he genuinely looked like he didn’t know my name. The entire time, he played as though he had no idea who I was.”

Tammy was at a loss for words, which was unusual for her. Every time she looked as though she had a thought, it would be gone, and she’d shake her head in confusions. “Wow,” was all she could manage before asking, “Did you tell your mum?”

“Tell her this?” I said. “She’d freak out.”

Tammy nodded, “I’m pretty scared myself. You’re not going to see him again, are you?”

I didn’t say anything. I crossed my arms and paced the room. “Oli,” she demanded, “Tell me you’re not going to see him again.”

“I just need closure,” I told her. “I need to know why he felt he needed to go to such extremes.”

Tammy stood up, “Okay if that’s all you want, I’ll go with you if you like. Someplace public, like his work.”

I felt the hitch of my sobs coming on again and Tammy gave me a hug. “Maybe in a few days, after you’ve thought about it some.”

I let out a muted cry as I nodded. “I just keep thinking what if I found his evil twin by accident.”

“Whatever happened was no accident.” 

She was right. This wasn’t a novel by Robert Luis Stevenson. It wasn’t a Marvel film where alternate dimensions collided. It wasn’t a soap opera. This was a disturbed man playing games with my head. Tom clearly took offense to being normal and decided to punish me with it because of his own hang-ups. Tammy stayed with me for several hours. Craig was starting to message her. 

“You can go,” I told her. “I’ll be all right. I just needed to vent.”

Long after Tammy had gone and it had started to get dark, heard someone knocking at the door. It was a firm knock, like someone delivering a package. I’m too short to see through the peephole so I had to pull back the curtain to look outside. My heart stopped when I saw Tom standing outside the door.

His hair was freshly slicked back and he had a new jacket, a tan leather one that looked like the sort people rode motorcycles with. He saw the curtain move and knocked again. I was in a full-blown panic. “I know you’re in there,” he said. “Come on out…I, I just want to talk.”

I left the chain lock on but opened the door. “Yeah?”

“You never left your name and number.”

“What?” I asked. Of all the things, this was this rough and tumble guy's concern? He was a roller coaster ride. Fun and scary, but you have to get off some time, otherwise it's no longer fun. Then it's just nauseating. 

“I looked up your plates, saw the car was registered to this address. Look I’m sorry if I frightened you last night. You caught me at a bad time.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Tom was playing the defensive. He held his arms out as if he were surrendering and took a step away from the door. “Can you just tell me your name, please.”

“You know my bloody name!” I screamed at him before closing the door in a hysterical fit.

I leaned against the door and cried. I didn’t care if he heard me. He was a prick and he deserved to know how he made me feel. If there was any humanity in him perhaps he’d be bothered, but I doubted it.

“Hey,” He said against the door. “You’re going through something right now. I can see that. I don’t know what it has to do with me, but I got shit to work out too, obviously. Let me in, we can talk about it.”

This whole situation reminded me of the wolf knocking on the three little pig’s door. Let me in. Let me in, or I’ll huff and puff and blow your house down. If I denied him, would he huff and puff? When he said he wanted to talk, I know he wanted to do something else. 

“You don’t have to let me in, we can go out for a drink,” he offered.

“At the Nag’s Head?” I said sarcastically.

He gave a moment to pause, “Well, we can go there if you like, but I was thinking something a bit nicer.”

I cursed myself as I unlocked the chain lock and stepped onto the mat. Tom gave me a devilish grin, “You driving or am I?”

He drove us up to Old Compton street to a place called Swift. It was a nice, posh pub with dark floors and cream-colored walls. It was gold lined and there were lots of lighting and a modern white bar. Tom looked at the server and said, “Downstairs.”

“I’m sorry, that’s reservations only, I’m afraid.”

Tom tilted his head and quickly recovered from the enraged expression he had. Instead, he produced a few pound notes and folded them into her hand. The waitress blushed and checked the books. 

“Mr…”

“Paige,” he said.

“Mr. Paige, right this way.”

The server led us downstairs to a low lit jazz bar with round booths. It had similar gold flashings and décor as upstairs, but it was as if the room was inverted. The opposite of the upstairs bar. A slender black woman sang accompanied by a piano player as we were seated in the corner.

Another server greeted us, and Tom ordered “a shot of their finest whiskey.”

“I’ll have a glass of red wine.”

Tom waved the waitress. “Make that the bottle of your best red wine,” he corrected.

He stayed on his edge of the booth and I stayed on mine. Neither of us said anything. The waitress came by with our drinks, but otherwise, the silence resumed until my glass was half empty. At that rate, I felt brave enough to speak up. “So, Tom Paige is your alter ego’s name or is that a lie too?”

I had seen Tom’s ID and knew his full name was Thomas Avery Fletcher. Avery was his father’s name. Thomas was his grandfather on his mother’s side. Tom took his wallet out of his coat and tossed it to me. I ignored the stacks of pound notes and was astonished to find the ID said, Thom Neely Paige.

My eyes narrowed. “Is it real?”

“Of course it’s real. I had to go about getting it in some unconventional ways because the blokes at the DVLA had trouble finding me, but it’s me.”

He took the wallet back and observed my forlorn expression, “Not what you were expecting?”

I was at a total loss. “Why did you come back for me?”

It was his turn to look lost. He stared into his drink, “I don’t know. I saw you didn’t leave your number and thought, ‘good riddance, she was high strung anyhow.” I woke up this morning and felt differently.”

“Different how?” I pressed.

“Alone, I guess.”

This wasn’t an act. Something was very wrong with Tom. He was crying out for help. Maybe I was wrong that he was too normal. Maybe I spoke too soon. Whatever was happening with him was not normal and this Tom, though he was intimidating and violent, was asking for my help.

“What if I told you that over the past few weeks I’ve been dating someone named Tom,” I said. “You look identical. Even the mole just below your left nipple is in the same spot. That’s why I came at you the way I did. Why I got so upset you didn’t know my name.”

To his credit, Tom listened intently and nodded. “It would make a lot of sense, actually.”

“It would?” I thought it sounded crazy when I said it out loud but this man didn't seem phased by it at all. It made me feel better to know I wasn't completely out of my head.

“You’re not the first girl to freak out at me the way you did. There are others who’ve tried to call me out. This one old man, he claimed to be my dad, but my dad’s been dead since I was a twelve.”  
I shook my head, “No Tom, your mum died when you were twelve, your dad is still around.”

That was a little too much for him to register. I saw how hard he gripped his whiskey glass and changed the subject. “What about the flat in Stratford?”

His steely blue eyes lit up with recognition. “I wake up there sometimes,” he admitted.

“You never wonder why?”

“I just assumed I got too drunk and passed out there from a party.”

I shook my head, “My mum and I watched a show about people with multiple identities. She’s a nurse at the hospital and actually met some of the people from the documentary. Said it was real, but I never paid any mind to it.”

“Multiple personalities,” Tom mulled it over while swirling the now empty glass. I realized I was pushing my limits with him. He was so unpredictable I had no idea what he would do. I was half-expecting him to get up and smash his glass into the mirrored wall and scream at me.

Instead, he said, “It’s a lot to take in, but, I can’t remember large chunks of time. My dealer says I go off the radar for months at a time sometimes and I can’t remember what I’m doing. Maybe I have what you say, maybe I don’t, but something isn’t right.”

I hesitated, but I swallowed hard and said, “Would you like to talk to someone about it?”

He looked at me then, intensely, “I’m talking to you.”

I blushed a little, charmed by the vulnerability of an otherwise brutish character. “I mean, like someone who could sort it out.”

“I want to have a look at this place in Stratford.”  
~~~

Tom insisted on driving. He was rather domineering, and I had difficulty saying no. Driving seemed to soothe him anyhow. His arm melded with the gear shift and it was as if he moved in perfect sync with my car. It made me sort of jealous really. I couldn’t help but wish I were the car.

The lawn was overrun and it was only a matter of time until the neighbors complained. I’d have to find a neighbor boy to hire or something. I had no idea when or if the other Tom would come back, and this Tom did not look like the sort to mow a lawn, though the image of him pushing a mower in his leather jacket, cold killer features, and slicked-back hair made me chuckle. 

My outburst wasn’t lost on Tom. “What?”

I shook my head, “Nothing, I’m just being stupid.”

The house was still unlocked. It was still trashed. Tom came in and picked up the bottle on the counter. “I left this here.”

The Tom I knew preferred Jameson whiskey. I opened the cabinet and noted the bottle of the stuff two-thirds full. It seemed Tom Paige wasn't aware of where Tom Fletcher kept his whiskey. 

I checked Tom’s phone, no one had called but me. I thought about calling his dad. I had never met him, but any insight on what was happening would help. I looked at Tom who was poking around in the cupboards, “He certainly likes his tea.”

“What’s your dad’s name?” I asked.

“Avery.” Tom looked at me and saw me staring at the phone, “Why?”

He thought his dad was dead. Would be able to talk to him? I didn’t want to upset him further. Tom decided he wasn’t going to let me make that choice. He strode over and took the other Tom’s phone and looked at it. “Your Olivia, I take it.”

Tom opened the photos and scrolled through pictures. Most of them were of me, a few of them were of us. He stared at the picture I took of us on the couch one night. He looked at me shaking in disbelief, “I don’t remember this at all.”

I held up my phone and took a photo of us together, “And when I show this to the other Tom, he won’t believe it either.”

“Why didn’t you show me a photo before?” He asked.

“I didn’t have any photos of you on my phone,” I said. “I don’t like to keep photos of boyfriends.” It did nothing but cause problems and drunk texts late at night.

Tom nodded. He surfed through the contacts and found Avery Fletcher. He looked so uncertain and looked away just then. He didn’t want me to see him so upset. “I can talk to him if you want.”

He took a deep breath, “No, I need to do this. Could you stay though?”

For a moment he sounded like the other Tom, but even that Tom didn’t like asking for help. I looked up at him and nodded. I kissed him then. Despite the initial confusion, his scary behavior, and wild occupation, he was also vulnerable, honest, and generous. 

Tom dialed the number and an older gentleman answered the phone. “Hullo?”

“Hi, Mr. Fletcher. I’m Tom.”

I pressed against Tom to listen to the conversation and he held me close with his free hand. 

“You mean my son.”

“It’s a funny story,” Tom started.

Tom was so choked up that he struggled to say just about anything. Eventually, he handed the phone to me and began chain-smoking while looking out the kitchen window. 

“Sorry,” I explained. “He is having some serious memory problems.”

“I’m just sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I thought he was lying. Going through growing pain—that sort of thing. If I had any idea it was something passed on from his mum…”

“Did she have memory problems too?” I asked.

“My dear, she had just about every problem known to the field of psychiatry. She had a nightmarish childhood. We married young, mostly I think she married me to escape her home. She was suicidal, bipolar, borderline personality disorder, and yes, memory problems. Whenever she came back from the hospital Tom would begin sob hysterically at the sight of her. She threatened to kill herself and hurt herself in front of him, you see.”

“Oh my god,” I was stunned. I couldn’t imagine what that must have been like growing up.

“I sent him to live with my parents when he was eight. He was happy from what I heard. After she passed, he moved back in with me. I figured his behavior was from the move, home probably brought back too many memories. I thought he was just acting out.”

His father did shed a bit of light on the situation. He recognized the name Paige, as it was his mother’s maiden name though he didn’t know where Neely came from. I promised to keep his dad updated and put his number in my phone. I looked around and realized Tom was no longer in sight.

“I got to go, it was good talking to you.”

“Keep me informed.”

“I will,” I promised and hung up the phone.

I set the phone down and I realized the shower was going. I tried to get in, but the door was locked. I knocked, “Tom?”

“Hang on!” He shouted laughing. There was something different in his voice, something lighter.

He opened the door with a towel hung low on his hips. His hair curled in ringlets all over his head. Tom’s eyes had once again returned to those pale blue ocean eyes. I let out a sigh of relief. It really was like seeing my boyfriend again. “You’re back,” I said.

He cracked an impish smile, “I think it’s you who is back.” 

“You don’t remember any of it, do you?” I asked.

He gave me a curious smile, “Nope.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” I asked.

“Eh, let me finish up taking a shower, I’ll be out in a moment. Or you can join me if you like.”

“Go on, I’ll be out here waiting.”

Tom came out shirtless and I felt like I was being attacked. His grey sweats hung low exposing his hipbones and chiseled abs. He was using my attraction to him against me. I sighed as I noted a distinct outline along his upper right thigh. Was he hoping to avoid a fight? It was working. I wasn’t trying to argue with him. I was trying to have a talk about his mental state, I reminded myself. Bad Tom was so reasonable about it, my Tom would be even easier to talk to. 

“I love those sweatpants on you,” I told him.

He gave a little grin, “Want some tea?”

“Yeah.” I could do with some tea about now.

I waited on the sofa until he came in with two mugs and set them down on the coffee table and sat beside me. “I’m sorry I overacted about the whole normal thing,” he said. 

“I was wrong,” I told him. “On a few levels.”

He gave me a strange smirk wondering what I was going on about. “I’ve been dating the wrong sort of men since I was fifteen,” I told him. “There’s an appeal to converting a bad guy, I’ll admit it. They can be exciting too. When a bad guy opens to you, it makes you feel special. More importantly, they are easier to leave when things go wrong.”

Tom looked at me and nodded. “I’m not exciting.”

How wrong he was…

“If I wanted to leave, which I don’t, but if I did, how would I do it?” I asked. “What would my reason be? That things were too wonderful?”

Tom’s eyes narrowed, “You don’t know that you’re ready for a long-term commitment.” 

I hadn’t thought about it that way. He was right. The surprise on my face seemed to give him confirmation that he hit it on the head. “Relationships are plenty hard, even without complications,” Tom said.  
“I suppose you’re right. In any case, it doesn’t matter. Turns out you’re not as normal as I thought last week.”

Tom crossed his arms over his bare chest. “You found my sock puppet collection?”

“What?”

Tom laughed and I sighed. He was just joking. It wouldn't have been all that surprising if he wasn't. I could see him acting out the bizarre hobby with googly-eyed socks over his hands. Doing a rendition of Shapespear or some other literary legend. That was just his sense of humor.

“No, but I do need to ask you something. What were we doing earlier today?”

“Earlier? You weren’t here.”

I pulled out my phone and clumsily pulled up the selfie I had taken earlier. “The timestamp says otherwise,” I said as I showed him.

Tom stared at the photo of me with bad Tom for several minutes. He kept going back to the photo details before going back to the photo again. He said nothing and I was beginning to panic. He would shake his head in denial and look at me as if I were showing him a photo of me with a different bloke.

“I took it to show you,” I said.

“I have no memory of this.”

“I know. He has no memory of you either. His name is Tom Neely Paige. I think he is part of the reason why you’ve had so much trouble with your dad and previous girlfriends.”

“What?”

I started from the beginning. How I found Tom Paige, I left out the sex bit—that just seemed wrong. How he found my home and how we discovered that he has multiple personalities.”

Tom was taken back by the whole thing. His expression became unreadable. “Multiple personalities,” he repeated.

“He’s got his own apartment, his own ID, he even drives different. We talked to your dad and he said—”

“You talked to my dad?” He asked sharply.

I was surprised by how curt he was. I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to talk to his dad. “In Tom Paiges’s memory, both of your…his parents died. He needed proof that he wasn’t. He wanted to hear his dad’s voice again, surely you could understand that.”

Tom was avoiding eye contact with me. He focused on his tea as if it were the last cup he’d ever drink. “Did you sleep with him?”

My mouth fell open. Of everything I had just told him, that was what he was worried about? “I thought he was you.”

“So, you slept with him,” he said sipping his tea.

It was my turn to look away. I couldn’t believe this was what he was hung up about. For months, probably years, he had an alternate personality that caused all sorts of untold chaos in his life. Was he upset that I slept with his alter because I thought it was him and because I spoke with his dad?

“I’m surprised,” I told him. “Between the two of you, I thought you’d be the one who would handle this better.”

“I, um, I’d like you to leave,” he said.

“What?” Ice ran through my veins. I couldn't believe this was his reaction.

“Clearly, I’ve got some things I need to attend to. I’d like to do that alone.”

I stepped outside and he shut and locked the door behind me. The rejection left me feeling hollow inside. I didn’t think it would turn out this way. I drove home that night, rehashing the conversation trying to decide if there weren’t some way I could have said it differently. 

Nothing I could have said would change sleeping with Tom Paige, and I didn’t regret it. For whatever reason, he and I connected despite the confusion and he was looking for help. If Tom Fletcher didn’t want help, what did that mean for Tom Paige? Were they going to be stuck living half-lives forever? I didn’t want to have to choose between them. I was arrogant to assume I’d be in that situation to begin with. It seemed that Tom Fletcher felt cheated and that it was a deal-breaker for him. When I got home, I sat down at the dinner table in the dark and sulked.

The light flipped on and I was blinded momentarily. “Oh,” mum said. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here, crying, in the dark.”

“I’m not crying,” I said. 

Mum didn’t look convinced. She sat down in the chair next to me. She didn’t even need to prompt me. I spilled my guts like I was trying to make parole. By the end, I was a total, snotty mess that didn’t know where I’d be if it weren’t for my mum.

“What an amazing girl, you are,” she said at last.

“What?” I asked wiping the snot from my lip with my sleeve.

“I’m a licensed nurse practitioner and I don’t know if I’d been able to sort out what was going wrong with him, but you did. People with DID can have many, many personalities, and it’s no surprise that one of them is in denial. The fact that you got the more rebellious one interested in treatment is a huge step in the right direction.”

“But he only comes out sometimes, not very often. He said he can go away for months at a time and Tom Fletcher is so upset with me.”

“Give him time,” mum said. “He’s probably scared out of his wits and doesn’t know what to make of all this. He sounds like a good boy, he’ll come around.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Well,” mum said. “It will only be a matter of time before his alter seeks out help or gets arrested. You said his dad knows now. Things will work out, you’ll see.”

I gave my mum the biggest of hugs. She made me feel so much better. She was right. Tom Fletcher was probably more upset about me sleeping with Tom Paige because he didn’t know how to be upset about having multiple personalities. It must have felt violating to know someone else was walking around in his body doing who knows what. Tom felt violated and cheated and rightly so. I hoped the betrayal he felt towards me was misdirected after all.

I slept like the dead despite the day. I was so tired and emotionally drained that when I showed up to work the next day, Steve asked me if I shouldn’t take another day off. I promised I wasn’t contagious, but he wasn’t satisfied. “It’s not about contagion,” he said. “I don’t want workers to look miserable. Scares off potential clients. That and working while sick will only make you sicker.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

I heard nothing from either Tom for the rest of the day. The next day, I closed with Tammy. We cleaned cases and even got a few customers though they didn’t buy anything hugely expensive. It was nice to make couples smile though. 

While we cleaned the jewelry cases, I told her what was going on. Tammy gobbled it down like it was some sort of soap opera. “Oh Oli, you’ve got to reach him somehow.”

“Fletcher needs space, he’ll come around or he won’t,” I said while wiping down a counter.

“But what about the other one?”

“Paige? Whenever he reemerges, I’m sure he’ll get in touch.” 

The turn of events did have me feeling off-kilter. It made sense that Tom Paige would have more incentive to seek help. He rarely manifested and had less control over his life whereas Tom Fletcher, despite his sweet demeanor was clearly the more dominant personality. Tom Paige got the brunt of the personality switches because he had so little to go off on. He couldn’t remember months on end, but Tom Fletcher only had short memory lapses.

Mum was going to get ahold of some people at work to have them talk with me about what was going on. Probably more for my sake than for Tom…either Tom. It was all so confusing. My relationship with Tom was now anything but boring. Then again, my relationship with Tom Fletcher may have been over, leaving me with Tom Paige instead. At least I knew what to expect from that sort of guy.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oli and Paige look for answers and Fletcher reemerges.

Tom insisted on driving. He was rather domineering, and I had difficulty saying no. Driving seemed to soothe him anyhow. His arm melded with the gear shift and it was as if he moved in perfect sync with my car. It made me sort of jealous really. I couldn’t help but wish I were the car.

The lawn was overrun and it was only a matter of time until the neighbors complained. I’d have to find a neighbor boy to hire or something. I had no idea when or if the other Tom would come back, and this Tom did not look like the sort to mow a lawn, though the image of him pushing a mower in his leather jacket, cold killer features, and slicked-back hair made me chuckle. 

My outburst wasn’t lost on Tom. “What?”

I shook my head, “Nothing, I’m just being stupid.”

The house was still unlocked. It was still trashed. Tom came in and picked up the bottle on the counter. “I left this here.”

I checked Tom’s phone, no one had called but me. I thought about calling his dad. I had never met him, but any insight on what was happening would help. I looked at Tom who was poking around in the cupboards, “He certainly likes his tea.”

“What’s your dad’s name?” I asked.

“Avery.” Tom looked at me and saw me staring at the phone, “Why?”

He thought his dad was dead. Would be able to talk to him? I didn’t want to upset him further. Tom decided he wasn’t going to let me decide that. He strode over and took the other Tom’s phone and looked at it. “You're Olivia, I take it.”

Tom opened the photos and scrolled through pictures. Most of them were of me, a few of them were of us. He stared at the picture I took of us on the couch on night. He looked at me shaking in disbelief, “I don’t remember this at all.”

I held up my phone and took a photo of us together the way he was, “And when I show this to the other Tom, he won’t believe it either.”

“Why didn’t you show me a photo before?” He asked.

“I didn’t have any photos of you on my phone,” I said. “I don’t like to keep photos of boyfriends.”

Tom nodded. He surfed through the contacts and found Avery Fletcher. He looked so uncertain and looked away just then. He didn’t want me to see him so upset. “I can talk to him if you want.”

He took a deep breath, “No, I need to do this. Could you stay though?”

For a moment he sounded like the other Tom, but even that Tom didn’t like asking for help. I looked up at him and nodded. I kissed him then. Despite the initial confusion, his scary behavior, and wild occupation, he was also vulnerable, honest, and generous. 

Tom dialed the number and an older gentleman answered the phone. “Hullo?”

“Hi, Mr. Fletcher. I’m Tom.”

I pressed against Tom to listen to the conversation and he held me close with his free hand. 

“You mean my son.”

“It’s a funny story,” Tom started.

Tom was so choked up that he struggled to say just about anything. Eventually, he handed the phone to me and began chain-smoking while looking out the kitchen window. 

“Sorry,” I explained. “He is having some serious memory problems.”

“His mum did too. I’m just sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I thought he was lying. Going through growing pain—that sort of thing. If I had any idea it was something passed on from his mum…”

“Did she have memory problems too?” I asked, biting my lip.

“My dear, she had just about every problem known to the field of psychiatry. She had a nightmarish childhood. We married young, mostly I think she married me to escape her home. She was suicidal, bipolar, borderline personality disorder, and yes, memory problems. Whenever she came back from the hospital Tom would begin sob hysterically at the sight of her. She threatened to kill herself and hurt herself in front of him, you see.”

“Oh my god,” I was stunned. I couldn’t imagine what that must have been like growing up. 

“I sent him to live with my parents when he was eight. He was happy from what I heard. After she passed, he moved back in with me. I figured his behavior was from the move, home probably brought back too many memories. I thought he was just acting out.”

His father did shed a bit of light on the situation. He recognized the name Paige, as it was his mother’s maiden name though he didn’t know where Neely came from. I promised to keep his dad updated and put his number in my phone. I looked around and realized Tom was no longer in sight.

“I got to go, it was good talking to you," I said, looking around for Tom.

“Keep me informed.”

“I will,” I promised and hung up the phone.

I set the phone down and I realized the shower was going. I tried to get in, but the door was locked. I knocked, “Tom?”

“Hang on!” He shouted laughing. There was something different in his voice, something lighter.

He opened the door with a towel hung low on his hips. His hair curled in ringlets all over his head. Tom’s eyes had once again returned to those pale blue ocean eyes. I let out a sigh of relief. It really was like seeing my boyfriend again. “You’re back,” I said.

He cracked an impish smile, “I think it’s you who is back.” 

“You don’t remember any of it, do you?” I asked.

“Nope.” He was grinning like a little child as if he were directly ignoring my dire tone.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” I asked.

“Eh, let me finish up taking a shower, I’ll be out in a moment. Or you can join me if you like.”

“Go on, I’ll be out here waiting.”

Tom came out shirtless and I felt like I was being attacked. His grey sweats hung low exposing his hipbones and chiseled abs. He was using my attraction to him against me. I sighed as I noted a distinct outline along his upper right thigh. Was he hoping to avoid a fight? It was working. I wasn’t trying to argue with him. I was trying to have a talk about his mental state, I reminded myself. 

Bad Tom was so reasonable about it, my Tom should be even easier to talk to. “I love those sweatpants on you,” I told him.

He gave a little grin, “Want some tea?”

“Yeah.” I could do with some tea about now.

I waited on the sofa until he came in with two mugs and set them down on the coffee table and sat beside me. “I’m sorry I overacted about the whole normal thing,” he said. 

“I was wrong,” I told him. “On a few levels.”

He gave me a strange smirk wondering what I was going on about. 

“I’ve been dating the wrong sort of men since I was fifteen,” I told him. “There’s an appeal to converting a bad guy, I’ll admit it. They can be exciting too. When a bad guy opens to you, it makes you feel special. More importantly, they are easier to leave when things go wrong.”

Tom looked at me and nodded. “I’m not exciting.”

How wrong he was…

“If I wanted to leave, which I don’t, but if I did, how would I do it?” I asked. “What would my reason be? That things were too wonderful?”

Tom’s eyes narrowed, “You don’t know if you’re ready for a long-term commitment.” 

I hadn’t thought about it that way. He was right. The surprise on my face seemed to give him confirmation that he hit it on the head. “Relationships are plenty hard, even without complications,” Tom said.

“I suppose you’re right. In any case, it doesn’t matter. Turns out you’re not as normal as I thought last week.”

Tom crossed his arms over his bare chest. “You found my sock puppet collection?”

“What?”

Tom laughed and I sighed. He was just joking. 

“No, but I do need to ask you something. What were we doing earlier today?”

“Earlier? You weren’t here.”

I pulled out my phone and clumsily pulled up the selfie I had taken earlier. “The timestamp says otherwise,” I said as I showed him.

Tom stared at the photo of me with bad Tom for several minutes. He kept going back to the photo details before going back to the photo again. He said nothing and I was beginning to panic. He would shake his head in denial and look at me as if I were showing him a photo of me with a different bloke.

"You don't like photos with boyfriends," he reminded.

“I took it to show you."

“I have no memory of this," he shook his head in denial.

“I know. He has no memory of you either. His name is Tom Neely Paige. I think he is part of the reason why you’ve had so much trouble with your dad and previous girlfriends.”

“What?”

I started from the beginning. How I found Tom Paige, I left out the sex bit—that just seemed wrong. How he found my home and how we discovered that he has multiple personalities.

Tom was taken back by the whole thing. His expression became unreadable. “Multiple personalities,” he repeated.

“He’s got his own apartment, his own ID, he even drives different. We talked to your dad and he said—”

“You talked to my dad?” He asked sharply.

I was surprised by how curt he was. I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to talk to his dad. “In Tom Paiges’s memory, both of your…his parents died. He needed proof that he wasn’t. He wanted to hear his dad’s voice again, surely you could understand that.”

Tom was avoiding eye contact with me. He focused on his tea as if it were the last cup he’d ever drink. “Did you sleep with him?”

My mouth fell open. Of everything I had just told him, that was what he was worried about? “I thought he was you.”

“So, you slept with him,” he said sipping his tea.

It was my turn to look away. I couldn’t believe this was what he was hung up about. For months, probably years, he had an alternate personality that caused all sorts of untold chaos in his life. Was he upset that I slept with his alter because I thought it was him and because I spoke with his dad?

“I’m surprised,” I told him. “Between the two of you, I thought you’d be the one who would handle this better.”

“I, um, I’d like you to leave,” he said into his cup of tea.

“What?”

“Clearly, I’ve got some things I need to attend to. I’d like to do that alone.”

I stepped outside and he shut and locked the door behind me. The rejection left me feeling hollow inside. I didn’t think it would turn out this way. I drove home that night, rehashing the conversation trying to decide if there weren’t some way I could have said it differently. 

Nothing I could have said would change sleeping with Tom Paige, and I didn’t regret it. For whatever reason, he and I connected despite the confusion and he was looking for help. If Tom Fletcher didn’t want help, what did that mean for Tom Paige? Were they going to be stuck living half-lives forever? I didn’t want to have to choose between them. I was arrogant to assume I’d be in that position to begin with. It seemed that Tom Fletcher felt cheated and that it was a deal-breaker for him. When I got home, I sat down at the dinner table in the dark and sulked.

The light flipped on and I was blinded momentarily. “Oh,” mum said. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here, crying, in the dark.”  
“I’m not crying,” I said. 

Mum didn’t look convinced. She sat down in the chair next to me. She didn’t even need to prompt me. I spilled my guts like I was trying to make parole. By the end, I was a total, snotty mess that didn’t know where I’d be if it weren’t for my mum. “What an amazing girl, you are,” she said at last.

“What?” I asked wiping the snot from my lip with my sleeve.

“I’m a licensed nurse practitioner and I don’t know if I’d been able to sort out what was going wrong with him, but you did. People with DID can have many, many personalities, and it’s no surprise that one of them is in denial. The fact that you got the more rebellious one interested in treatment is a huge step in the right direction.”

“But he only comes out sometimes, not very often. He said he can go away for months at a time and Tom Fletcher is so upset with me.”

“Give him time,” mum said. “He’s probably scared out of his wits and doesn’t know what to make of all this. He sounds like a good boy, he’ll come around.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Well,” mum said. “It will only be a matter of time before his alter seeks out help or gets arrested. You said his dad knows now. Things will work out, you’ll see.”

I gave my mum the biggest of hugs. She made me feel so much better. She was right. Tom Fletcher was probably more upset about me sleeping with Tom Paige because he didn’t know how to be upset about having multiple personalities. It must have felt violating to know someone else was walking around in his body doing who knows what. Tom felt violated and cheated and rightly so. I hoped the betrayal he felt towards me was misdirected after all.

I slept like the dead despite the day. I was so tired and emotionally drained that when I showed up to work the next day, Steve asked me if I shouldn’t take another day off. I promised I wasn’t contagious, but he wasn’t satisfied. “It’s not about contagion,” he said. “I don’t want workers to look miserable. Scares off potential clients. That and working while sick will only make you sicker.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

I heard nothing from either Tom for the rest of the day. The next day, I closed with Tammy. We cleaned cases and even got a few customers though they didn’t buy anything hugely expensive. It was nice to make couples smile though. 

While we cleaned the jewelry cases, I told her what was going on. Tammy gobbled it down like it was some sort of soap opera. “Oh Oli, you’ve got to reach him somehow.”

“Fletcher needs space, he’ll come around or he won’t,” I said while wiping down a counter.

“But what about the other one?”

“Paige? Whenever he reemerges, I’m sure he’ll get in touch.” 

The turn of events did have me feeling off-kilter. It made sense that Tom Paige would have more incentive to seek help. He rarely manifested and had less control over his life whereas Tom Fletcher, despite his sweet demeanor was clearly the more dominant personality. Tom Paige got the brunt of the personality switches because he had so little to go off on. He couldn’t remember months on end, but Tom Fletcher only had short memory lapses.

Mum was going to get ahold of some people at work to have them talk with me about what was going on. Probably more for my sake than for Tom…either Tom. It was all so confusing. My relationship with Tom was now anything but boring. Then again, my relationship with Tom Fletcher may have been over, leaving me with Tom Paige instead. At least I knew what to expect from that sort of guy.


End file.
